


Trust in the Cards

by flyingwargle



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Again, Blood, Complete, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Kaitou Kid Heist (Meitantei Conan/Magic Kaito), Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid Needs a Hug, for the record i love kaito, i'm so sorry bby, introspection beneath the moonlight, multi-chaptered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29837988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingwargle/pseuds/flyingwargle
Summary: Conan finds a bloodied deck of cards at the end of Kaitou Kid’s blood trail after a heist. With the phantom thief’s identity in the palm of his hand, Conan does the sensible thing – gives them back to him. (Rated for violence and language.)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	1. The Detective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: gunshots, blood

The parade started fifteen minutes before the announced heist hour. Floats that represented independent and corporate art societies maneuvered down the street, surrounded by crowds on either side. Phones were in the air, and bodies were pressed against one another, all for the slim chance to catch a glimpse of the world’s largest amethyst, Bouquet of Lavender.

It was the latest bait from Suzuki Jirokichi to capture Kaitou Kid, disguised as an event to celebrate art collections within the city. At eight o’clock, the amethyst would leave the warehouse where the floats emerged from and run the course, which last ten minutes. Guards prevented the audience from approaching the street, helicopters hovered overhead, and the police were stationed on the surrounding rooftops, with media personnel sprinkled in between. Despite the heavy security, the celebration took priority, evidenced by the music that came from some of the floats, treats that volunteers tossed to the crowd, and the awe and excitement that radiated across the block.

Conan was positioned on the second building’s rooftop away from the warehouse, telescopic lens examining the numerous bodies below. Hakuba stood beside him with his binoculars to do the same. Behind them, Inspector Nakamori issued orders, and footsteps thundered across the concrete as his men marched into position or brought equipment to their designated spots. Voices came through the radio at his belt, and Conan took a moment to eavesdrop on whether anyone else had spotted the thief. No one had yet.

“Did you see anything amiss, Conan-kun?” Hakuba asked.

“No.” He reeled his attention back to glance at the high school detective. “Did you?”

“Unfortunately not. There are two minutes and twenty-five point eight seconds left until the appointed time.” His golden pocket watch gleamed beneath the night sky, though the light was lessened due to the encroaching clouds. Hakuba nodded at the warehouse down the street and said, “I must hand it to Senior Advisor Suzuki. I was absent for the other challenges he issued, and they’re just as lively as the media reported.”

Conan rolled his eyes. “He just wants his five minutes of fame.” A late evening parade was an idea only the old man could conjure and assemble within a week’s time. Despite how rain was predicted in the forecast, he had been too stubborn to cancel.

It would be miraculous if the thief managed to steal the jewel. The guards would ensure no one would slip onto the street, and if someone did, the police would catch them. The helicopters prevented Kid from using his hang glider, and no one was supposed to be stationed on the amethyst’s float. However, this _was_ Kid that they were against. No matter how tight surveillance was, he would likely find a way.

“There’s one minute left!” Nakamori shouted. “Get into your position, and be ready!” Officers scrambled to return to their spots along the railing, kneeled beside spotlights, poised at staircases in preparation for a mad dash down to the street, or with binoculars pointed upwards or down. Conan watched the warehouse for the moment the float emerged.

As the clock turned a new hour, the float crawled along the road and onto the street. It was manually driven by an operator elsewhere, and spotlights shone on the amethyst’s case positioned in the center. Cameras flashed in the darkness, the crowd in collective awe at the spectacle. Conan took a moment to admire the lavender hue before switching his telescopic lens back on. If the thief were to strike, it would be soon–

“Hey! Why isn’t the float moving?” Nakamori’s bark made Conan jump. He slid his gaze to the street, where the platform slowed to a halt. White smoke released from underneath and obscured the crowd from view. A dark shadow vanished inside the cloud, invisible despite the helicopters’ searchlights. Once visibility was restored, cheers erupted to greet the phantom thief who stood on top of the display case, hands in his pockets, light reflected off his monocle.

The amethyst was gone.

“I bid you all a good evening on this gray occasion.” Kid bowed, poised despite the slim surface. “In return for the amethyst, I would like to take this opportunity to put on a show for my esteemed audience and fans.”

“Get him!” Nakamori ordered. “The float’s stopped, so rush in there and grab him!”

The crowd shifted as both plainclothes and uniformed officers surged through to burst onto the asphalt road. Kid snapped his fingers, and confetti shot out in every direction. The float began to move again, but this time, it was faster than designated.

“Who is supposed to operate it?” Conan turned to Hakuba.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Kid is controlling it remotely or re-wired it for his assistant to do so.” He nodded toward the thief, whose left hand remained in his pocket. “He’s surrounded on all sides and escape through the air is impossible. How will you get away this time…?”

A gunshot reverberated throughout the open air. Screams melted the ecstatic atmosphere as the audience ducked their heads, with several attempting to flee. Officers were swift to brandish their own weapons as they whirled to pinpoint the source, and guards shouted for the civilians to remain calm. The float stopped, Kid immobile on top of the display case. Conan followed the thief’s eyes – swift, calculating, pointed in all directions. He sought someone out. Who?

There was another shot. The crowd recoiled. Nakamori jumped up from his feet to lean over the railing, radio in hand. “Find who it is, damnit!”

Conan stayed down. He watched the panicked crowd below, infinitely grateful to Jirokichi, who insisted for their usual company to watch the parade inside the warehouse. If he had been with them, Ran would’ve prevented him from leaving, rendering him a useless bystander.

A scream rose above the rest, distinctively feminine. Conan’s eyes widened in horror as a child broke free and ran across the road. A flash of white made him blink, and his mouth fell open at the same time a third gunshot erupted.

Crimson blossomed across the thief’s white attire. A fraction of the officers dashed toward the direction of the shot, the other half toward Kid. He barely rolled away from the child when smoke enveloped him and stopped the pursuit. Conan didn’t wait for it to fade – he ran for the stairs.

He emerged into an alleyway. One end was blocked by the crowd, and the other opened to a network of side streets. Footsteps echoed behind him, and he pressed himself against the wall to remain hidden. Hakuba passed him, undoubtedly aiming to find the thief. As sensible as it was to cooperate with him, Conan had a feeling that he had to find Kid first.

Based on the bullet’s trajectory and Kid’s body angle, it would’ve grazed his gut. He would survive, fortunately, but blood loss would slow him down and narrow his escape routes. The museum was flanked by the warehouse and park, which was ringed with trees, and connected to a row of nightclubs and bars. Kid would likely want to get as far as possible from the police’s perimeter, or at least find a crowd to blend into until it was safe for his assistant to retrieve him, unless he bled to death first.

Conan shone his wristwatch flashlight on the path once he reached the park. Droplets of blood served to misdirect him due to their shape and dead-ends, but eventually caught on where the trail straightened and led toward a side street. He noticed how the blood was barely visible in the light, which meant Kid retained enough clarity to throw off potential pursuers.

The trail ended at a discarded, bloodied deck of cards. Conan slowed to a halt, out of breath. He scanned the shadows, unable to discern any side alleyways that were connected to the narrow street. The rooftops were hidden in the darkness, and when he shone his light over the walls, pipes and pockmarks stared back to him. He turned to face the lively row of bars and nightclubs, the street occupied with young adults that traveled in groups, workers who handed flyers and shouted advertisements, and neon lights that boasted discounts and promotions. Kid must’ve disguised himself to blend into the crowd. Conan didn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified.

His usual prickle of annoyance at the thief’s getaway was replaced with concern in the form of a deep frown and gentle fingers that retrieved the deck with his handkerchief. He examined it beneath his light – Bicycle Playing Cards, a standard brand that both magicians and casinos used. The paper tuck box was faded at the folds and scratched, freshly stained with blood. When he carefully shook a few of the cards out onto his palm, he noted how a few were bent at odd angles, the lettering was faded, or marked with odd symbols and characters. They told the story of a seasoned magician, one who excelled in card magic yet sentimental to keep the deck despite how worn the cards were. They were not meant to be used for any other purpose than putting a smile on someone’s face.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, followed by rain. Conan wrapped his handkerchief around the deck and tucked into his pocket just as footsteps approached. “Conan-kun!”

Hakuba halted before him, out of breath. Conan shone his light over the blood trail, and the detective was quick to kneel to examine them. “I suppose this is where Kid must’ve been picked up by his assistant. Did you find anything else?”

“No, just the blood. We should get a sample of it for Inspector Nakamori to examine.”

“It would be futile with this rain. Come, we should head back and report our findings.”

He turned to hurry back the way they came from. Conan was about to follow when realization made him freeze. Though blood dried quickly in open air, enough time had elapsed for the police to collect a sample. Why did the detective say it was futile? Was he trying to protect the thief’s identity?

The deck of cards weighed heavily in his pocket, as if in protest. All he had to do was hand them over and Kid would be arrested by the end of the night. He could imagine the blood soak his handkerchief, spread across the thin cloth–

“Conan-kun?”

“I’m on my way!” He joined Hakuba and they returned to the street.

The air was tense. The crowd had been divided among the officers, encircled by guards. Nakamori conversed with Inspector Megure beneath a shared umbrella, his detectives huddled closely to listen to what transpired. They broke off and each approached a group as Hakuba joined them. “Apologies, Inspector Nakamori, but we lost Kid’s trail.”

“I thought so. Good work.” He sighed. “I’ve already asked my men to tell nearby hospitals to contact the MPD if anyone matching Kid’s description and injuries comes in. Unless his assistant is a doctor, I doubt he’d survive without professional care.”

“The rain worked in his favor,” Megure commented. “All traces of his blood will be washed away.”

“I knew that old man should’ve listened to me when I said-!”

“Canceling the event would’ve been more trouble than what it’s worth, Inspector,” a familiar gruff voice responded. Jirokichi walked across the road with Sonoko, who held the umbrella between them. Ran broke off from her father to kneel in front of Conan.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern laced in her inquiry. “It must’ve been scary.”

Conan shook his head. “Hakuba-nii-chan and I were on the roof, so we were farthest from Kid.”

“We’ve been together the entire time,” Hakuba added. “I couldn’t let a mere elementary school child roam freely.” Conan shot him a grateful look for the lie.

“The issue at hand here is security.” Jirokichi’s elevated tone projected his anger. He pointed a finger toward the area where Kid had been shot. “A civilian was nearly harmed if it weren’t for Kid! There could’ve been more casualties if he hadn’t done something about it!”

“Who shot him?” Megure asked. “Had he been targeted before?”

Nakamori sighed again. “We have no idea who they are or why they’re targeting Kid. This isn’t the first heist where shots were fired, but it is the first in a public area. The other time was at a magic show by that magic troupe…Jody Hopper’s, I think? Now that I think about it, everyone was evacuated beforehand so no one was harmed.”

“That sounds like Kid’s _modus operandi_ ,” Hakuba commented. “No harm is meant to befall on his audience.”

“Division One will do what we can to help,” Megure said with a nod at his colleague. “The safety of the public depends on our success.”

The police members continued their chat while Jirokichi called for his driver to take them home. Hakuba declined the offer, insisting that his housekeeper was already on her way. As he turned to head off, Conan caught a gleam in his golden gaze, as well as slightly angled nod. The cards seemed to flare in acknowledgment, and Conan simply stared back to stave off his surprise. _He knows about them._

 _Don’t think that I’ll protect him._ Conan slipped his hands in his pockets, palm against his handkerchief. _I have every intention of exposing his identity._ He turned his back on the scene and raised his head to watch the rain, as if the moon wept for the Magician Under the Moonlight.

* * *

The downpour continued into the next morning. Every news outlet reported on the heist, shocked that the thief had enemies who were dangerous enough to target him despite the public audience. A few articles were also about the young child that Kid saved, hospitalized for minor injuries. The mother had offered her private information in the event that the thief would like to be rewarded, and Conan had no doubt that Kid was not interested.

He eavesdropped as Sonoko summarized the news that Inspector Nakamori had provided her uncle while on their way to school. No one who matched Kid’s description had checked into any hospital. Although there was an altercation that ended in injury on the same night, it was too far from the heist, thus impossible for the victim to be considered Kid. No one in the audience had gunpowder on their clothes when tested, and there weren’t any eyewitnesses either. The shooter’s identity remained unknown.

The heist was all that his classmates talked about. Many had watched the live broadcast on television, including the fatal moment. Several asked him for additional details, which Conan kept to a minimum, even when his friends insisted. He buried his head beneath his book to stave them off, shifting his leg, reassured by the deck’s weight, now inside a plastic bag, wrapped in the bloodstained cloth.

Umbrellas popped up across the courtyard after school ended. “I think I’ll just go home,” Mitsuhiko said when Genta asked about their afternoon plans. “I got a new book that I want to start.”

“Ayumi doesn’t feel like playing today either.” She wrung her pink umbrella in her hands, frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “My mom said not to stay outside for too long since it’s raining.”

Genta huffed. “You guys are no fun. What about you, Conan?”

“Sorry, but I promised the professor that I’d help him with an experiment,” he replied, slipping his runners on.

“How about I-“

“I’ll be there to help, as well.” Haibara’s narrowed eyes silenced him. “I’m sorry, Kojima-kun, but it might be best if we played another time.”

He grumbled under his breath but didn’t protest. Instead, he stormed out of the building with his umbrella and walked off. His friends watched in muted silence until Haibara turned to Mitsuhiko and Ayumi. “If you’re concerned about what happened last night, don’t be. The police are better equipped to investigate the shooter, and I’m sure Kid is able to care for himself. He’ll be back before you know it.”

“I feel so helpless,” Mitsuhiko confessed. “Kid isn’t just a thief; he’s an entertainer. It feels strange that something like that would happen to him.”

Haibara shrugged. “You mustn’t forget that he’s also a criminal. It’s inevitable that he’ll have enemies due to the items that he targets.” The children were unable to argue against the truth, simply nodded dejectedly.

After they said their respective farewells at the gate, Conan and Haibara walked toward the professor’s home. “Are you willing to indulge the truth now?” she asked. “I assumed you withheld information for the children’s sake.”

“I know as much as the police do. The only thing I omitted was this.” He held the deck out. “I found these at the end of Kid’s blood trail. Can you run a blood test to figure out what it is?”

“Do you suppose it was deliberate?”

“No.” That was akin to an invitation to expose his identity. “It had to be an accident.”

She nodded. “I’ll do what I can. What will you do if we uncover him?”

Conan froze. Last night’s determination felt like it came from another lifetime, and all he felt now was an unusual emptiness, a sense of foreboding. He lowered his eyes when Haibara glanced at him. “I’ll figure that out if we get that far.”

Agasa, albeit confused, greeted them when they arrived. He was quickly ignored when Conan marched toward the couch and Haibara headed for the basement to change and grab supplies. The professor hovered over Conan while he took his backpack off and placed the deck on the table. “What is that?” Agasa asked.

In the time it took him to summarize last night’s heist, Haibara had changed and returned with rubber gloves, her laptop, and lab equipment. She dropped them on the opposite end. “It’ll be difficult to run a sample with dried blood. Dusting them for fingerprints would be more worthwhile, although we don’t have a database to compare them to.”

“I’ll examine the cards first.” Conan pulled on the extra pair of gloves and removed the deck from the plastic bag. He carefully peeled the handkerchief off and slid the cards out from the tuck box.

He fanned them across the table and spaced them evenly to examine each card individually. The second half was ordered by suit and number, as if the magician had given up on the task halfway. A signature marked the king of hearts, which Conan picked up to inspect. It was written with a black permanent marker, faded from age. Like most signatures, it was difficult to distinguish, and the only recognizable symbol was a clover beside an elegant swirl. “Professor, have you seen this signature before?”

Silence answered him. He glanced over at him, surprised by Agasa’s widened eyes. He recovered a moment later to clear his throat and adjust his glasses. “Oh, uh…well, I’ve seen it before. My barkeeper friend gave me a poster with the same autograph a long time ago.”

“Who…?”

“Kuroba Toichi. Have you heard of him?”

It was rarer to find someone who hadn’t. Kuroba Toichi, known for his international full house shows, was a renowned magician famous for his stage magic. He never performed the same trick twice and appeared on stages alongside other magicians and talent troupes. The world had mourned his death when he passed away in a magic accident, although magicians continued to honor his memory. Was this deck a memento from one of his shows? Was the thief’s admiration strong enough to keep it with him despite the ramifications?

Haibara broke into his thoughts. “Do you suppose Kid was one of his fans?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s impossible, but…” Conan frowned. He brushed through the rest of the deck, ran his fingers along the folds and creases, stared at the other markings also written in permanent marker. Upon closer examination, the symbols looked like numbers attached to letters or misshapen _hiragana_ characters. They looked like a child’s scrawl, made by a practicing magician to remember the mechanics of a trick or to mark a card’s location in a deck.

Cards were a quintessential prop for any magician. It was common to wear out decks after several performances or once they’d served their purpose. Kid must’ve burned through hundreds of cards with his card gun, so why did he keep these? What value did they have if he brought them to a heist?

 _What if it’s for luck?_ Conan thought about Hattori’s _omamori_ and the spiritual protection it provided. The deck could have a similar purpose – after being enamored by Kuroba Toichi’s performance and having the rare opportunity for the magician to autograph them, the thief would use it to draw strength from, like a token.

It felt out of character. There had to be a deeper significance. Kuroba Toichi had to be more than a mere idol. Yes, he had to be–

Conan hopped off the couch and began to pace. Kid was around his age, sixteen. Kuroba Toichi’s death was eight years ago – they would’ve been around eight. That also coincided with Kaitou Kid’s last appearance. If he assumed that the scrawls belonged to the second-generation Kid, created in his childhood, that meant–

“Professor.” He noticed Agasa jump at the quiet address. “Do you know if Kuroba Toichi had any children?”

“Uh…”

“Yes. He had a son.” Haibara answered for him. Her fingers tapped across her laptop keyboard. “It appears that his son is also a prolific magician and is just as skilled as his father. He’s been called a prodigy.”

That fit quite nicely with the current Kid. Conan credited his intellect and deductive prowess to his father’s instruction. If Kid had a similar upbringing, that would explain how he could plan and execute a heist in less than twenty-four hours.

He turned back to the cards, where the autographed king of hearts rested on top. Conan felt the threads hang untethered in his mind, yet he refused to tie them together, had an instinctual feeling that he knew what kind of conclusion that they created. He stepped forward to pick it up – he could not fathom how it would feel like to lose a parent. Although both of his were barely in his life, knowing that they were alive brought him comfort. If an autograph were all that remained, it would make sense for someone to carry it around, to feel as if their spirit were with them.

Those cards spelled the identity of the country’s most notorious thief, as well as a boundless love for someone who would never live again.

“Kudo-kun?” Haibara prompted. “What do you want to do?”

“I…” Conan let out a breath. “I’m going to give them back to him. ”

“Without bringing them to the police?”

Agasa frowned. “Shinichi, that’s not-“

“I know. I know I should give it to them, but…it doesn’t feel right.” Sentimentality aside, there was still the shooter to contend with. Perhaps if he used the cards to negotiate with the thief, he could extract information regarding his enemies. There was a slim possibility that his demons might be the same as Conan’s–

He shook his head and gathered the cards back in their original order. The thief had taken a blow in place of an innocent bystander. To expose his identity in return was to betray the mutual unspoken arrangement between them. Conan did not dishonor his trust in others, and he suspected the thief was the same.

“Professor.” He turned to Agasa. “I need you to help me get a message out to Kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if there are any additional warnings that you think should be added, please do not hesitate to comment or message me privately on my social media (available in bio) and I will add them immediately. it's my first time with them and any feedback is appreciated!


	2. The Magician

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: hospitalization, mentions of blood and gunshot wounds (in reference to the first half), panic attacks

Nightfall. A haze of streetlights. Uneven footsteps. Blurred vision. Back against the wall, grip weak around the phone, words punctuated with gasps. A collision against the pavement, consciousness receding until nothing remained.

Kaito blinked his eyes open to an unfocused, tiled ceiling. He twitched his fingers, wriggled his toes, rolled his head from side to side. A curtain separated him from the other occupants in the room, though he could not hear anyone else. Rain tapped against the windows on his right. The lights were dimmed, and he noticed a thin tube inserted in his vein. Exhaustion swept him back under, just as a single realization echoed in his mind.

_I’m alive._

It was afternoon when he awoke again, beckoned by low voices just out of earshot. Jii’s somber tone stabbed his heart, while the nurse’s matter-of-fact replies reaffirmed his personal assessment of his condition – the bullet had cleanly exited his body, and the wounds were stitched closed. He had suffered from internal bleeding and lost a significant amount of blood. If there was no infection, he would be discharged tomorrow.

“What a brave young man.” He froze at the nurse’s quiet awe. “You don’t often see anyone protect others these days, especially at the cost of a grievous injury. He ought to be rewarded.”

“Young Master Kaito is not someone who’d risk his life for recognition,” Jii responded. “If he sees a person in need, he will not hesitate to throw himself in danger.”

Kaito’s pulse raced. How did the nurse know what he did? Why didn’t Jii deny it? He attempted to move upright, but pain jolted through him. His hand immediately pressed against his side, low hiss suppressed between his gritted teeth. Though he had tried to remain quiet, it was enough to alert the pair of his conscious state.

“Young Master!” Jii flew to his side, wrinkled hands flapping in concern. “Are you all right?”

“Does it look like it…?” His heated retort cooled when he met the elderly assistant’s soft eyes and tense shoulders. Kaito turned away and lightly brushed his fingers across his stitches, unable to fathom the raw, aggravated skin beneath his fingertips.

The bed raised at an angle so he remained braced against the mattress but upright. He glanced at the nurse, who examined the IV beside him. “I’m glad to see that you’re awake. It isn’t fun to be in this position, is it?”

He would’ve snapped a witty response but his mind failed to supply him with anything sufficient.

“I hope you’ll think before you act next time. While it was very brave of you, it was also very reckless. No one would instinctively throw themselves in front of a complete stranger if an armed robber shot at them instead of you.” She pivoted to head for the door. “I’ll be back with the doctor and a new IV.”

Kaito kept his silence until it slid closed. “What armed robber? Was she talking about me?”

“Do not recall our cover story from last night?”

“My gut is on fire and I’m drunk on painkillers. I don’t even know what day it is.”

Jii lowered himself on the stool by the bed, hat crumpled in his hands. “We agreed that your injury was from when you shielded a pedestrian from an armed robber’s gun. It occurred at the same time as Kaitou Kid’s heist on the other side of the city, so there wouldn’t be a connection between the two of you.”

“How did the media believe that?”

The only response was a wordless nod. His capabilities were limitless, and Kaito had only witnessed the barest amount. “I contacted your school about your hospitalization,” Jii added. “Aoko-san wanted to stay with you overnight, but I persuaded her otherwise. I also disposed of your suit and cleaned all your equipment. The amethyst is safe inside your workroom.”

“Thank you.” Kaito turned toward the objects on the bedside table. “Can you pass me-“

He was interrupted by the doctor, who entered unannounced with two nurses. Jii stepped aside as they examined him and inquired further about last night, to which Kaito supplied answers as accurately as he could without arousing suspicion. He would stay overnight for observation and if no complications arose, he could be discharged tomorrow.

“Please stay still until your IV is finished,” the nurse added as she skimmed over his chart. Her eyes lingered over a certain part, and Kaito was about to ask when she spoke again. “Kuroba Kaito-kun…are you related to Kuroba Toichi-san, by any chance?”

“He was my father.”

She clapped her hands excitedly. “I had the honor to watch one of his shows when I was younger! I wanted to be a magician after that but I didn’t have the skill. It’s a pleasure to take care of you, Kuroba-kun.”

“Thank you for your support. I would love to offer you a rose, but it appears my pockets are empty.” Nonexistent, actually, since his hospital-issued cloth pants did not have any.

“Oh! Are you also a magician?”

“I am.”

“That’s wonderful! I’d love to see one of your shows in the future.” She put the chart back and gave a wave over her shoulder. “Get some rest, please. You’ll have to stay in bed until your IV is finished.”

Jii walked her out before returning to the magician’s side. “Young Master, is there anything you’d like for me to do? I brought your tablet and some homework, if you feel well enough to work on it.”

“I have a question.” Kaito gestured at the wallet, phone, and keys on the bedside table. “Is this all that you left on me last night?”

“Yes. Is there something missing?”

“My cards.” The deck was often in the same pocket as his phone, pressed against one another to create a familiar weight against his leg. A faint memory surfaced – he felt an object fall out when he took his phone out to call Jii last night. He was certain he tried to retrieve it, but perhaps his consciousness slipped before he could. “They should be in the alleyway where I called you.”

Jii took his phone out to scroll through his history. All their calls during heists also recorded the location as a safety measure. “Is it here?”

“Yeah.” Kaito felt his heart throb at the image of his deck bloodied and soaked from the rain. They had outlived their performative purpose, but its value was priceless. “If you can…take a look and see if you can find them, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course. I will also run a few errands before I return.” He molded the hat back around his head and exited the room. Kaito let out a breath and closed his eyes.

It was difficult to summon fury in his current condition. He had never fathomed that his enemies would target civilians not involved in their feud. Did they not have a clear shot of him? Was that why they aimed for the child instead, knowing that he would throw himself in the line of fire? It pained him how predictable his behavior was; however, the general public was aware of his heist policy. That also included his assailants.

This was not the first time he had suffered from a bullet wound. He’d stared down the other end of the barrel multiple times, but that barrel was never meant to be pointed at someone else. That was why he’d jumped instinctively, had used his body to shield the child, had endured the explosive pain in the aftermath. He could not remember how he managed to escape, but he knew it was due to adrenaline and instinct, helped by the rain and darkness.

If the police managed to collect a sample of his blood, he was one step closer to having his identity uncovered. If they found those cards, on the other hand, his life was forfeit. Kaito released a long, staggered breath to quell his racing pulse. No one used that street. It had only been half a day. The chances that they were still there were high–

Knocks on the door brought him back to the present. It slid open and a young man stepped inside, still dressed in his navy blue _gakuran_ , golden eyes radiating with sympathy. He carried an oval wicker basket filled with fruits and cards that he placed on the bedside table before sitting on the stool. “Kuroba-kun.”

“Hakuba.” Kaito regarded him through narrowed eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to visit.”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon. You should still be in school.”

Hakuba looked unamused. The bell did not dismiss the detective nor the magician; they excused themselves. “I wanted to speak with you alone, so I left early. Our classmates send their condolences.” He gestured at the cards. “Akako-san will not be able to come, and Aoko-san will visit later once her father is finished with work.”

Kaito slumped deeper into the bed. He hated that she would see him like this, a far cry from the usual exuberance that he demonstrated. If it were any consolation, at least he was spared from Akako. “So? What did you want to talk to me about?”

“The police are still investigating the whereabouts of last night’s shooter.”

“Do you mean the armed robber? Shouldn’t he have some sort of ID on him?”

“I’m not referring to that hoax. There was someone after _your_ life, Kuroba-kun. If you have any information that can help us apprehend them, we would appreciate it.”

Kaito scowled. “No one is after my life. I was involved in that robbery at the same time of the heist. If you’re going to be unpleasant, can you please wait until after I’ve recovered? I don’t have the energy to deal with your bullshit.”

“I apologize. Perhaps you can find some comfort in my gift.”

He didn’t turn to look, only when the silence elapsed. The detective held a new pack of cards in his palm, still sealed in plastic. They were standard playing cards. “You do know that most magicians have their own cards to use, right?” Kaito said slowly. “I have plenty at home.”

“I do not doubt that, but it appears that your usual deck is absent.”

Kaito forced himself to remain still. “I was on a walk last night when I got caught in that incident. Why would I bring cards with me?”

“I saw your elderly acquaintance leave just as I entered the hospital. It would make sense for him to drop off such an important item, considering your condition and its significance. This is mere conjecture, of course, based on what I’ve observed in school.”

It was not a secret how he used the deck to perform card tricks for his classmates, how he never used the king of hearts and kept it inside the tuck box. Teachers had scolded him for disrupting the lecture whenever he shuffled his cards, and he did so during study periods or any idle moment.

For most magicians, a deck like his would be more troublesome than not. Its creases and folds interfered with a clean shuffle, and due to the faded color and print, each card was easily distinguishable from one another. However, he had grown accustomed to it, knew instinctively how to curve his palms or adjust his fingers so each card bent accordingly. His movements were practiced, fluid. The way he palmed the deck and cards was unlike how he would do so with any other deck.

“Does it look like I’m in any position to handle cards?” Kaito responded.

Hakuba didn’t reply. He stood up and approached the window. “I asked my father about the evidence the police had collected after the heist. They discovered the remote that Kid used to control the float, extra mechanisms attached underneath, and bullet casings from the three shots. They did not find a deck.”

Relief calmed his erratic heartbeat. Kaito’s poker face slid back on with a small, easy smile. “I’ve never heard of Kid carrying a single deck of cards around. Does he use it to reload his card gun?”

“Perhaps, but it may serve as a memento instead. I’m uncertain if he is someone who is sentimental, but seeing how he had the opportunity to change his costume from eight years prior, the fact that he did not must be because it is a homage to someone else.”

“I wonder who it is?”

“It must be someone important, like a role model, or perhaps an adult figure.” Hakuba turned back toward him with a grave expression. He kept his arms folded behind his back, lips pressed into a deep frown. “I mentioned that the police did not find any deck of cards; however someone else had. I’m sure you know about the Kid Killer?”

Kaito nodded. He spotted the child crouched along the railing before the heist, impossibly small beside the high school detective. “What about him?”

“He and I chased after Kid after he disappeared in the smoke. He located the end of the trail before I did. Although he told me that he didn’t find anything, the shape of his pocket indicated otherwise.”

Kaito felt himself stop breathing.

“It is likely that your deck of cards is with him.”

“Like I said, those aren’t _my_ cards. They’re-“ He cut himself off. His mind raced. Shit. Shit. If the police found them, his life was forfeit, but if it were the detective? He didn’t know. Would he spare him, out of respect of their mutual rivalry? Would he dispose of them? Would he pass them off and seal his fate?

This was someone who vowed to catch him, unmask him, throw him behind bars. He interfered with nearly half his heists, exposed his tricks, smiled smugly as he explained his deductions until he scowled at the clean getaway. They were destined to be at odds, locked in competition to see who would be bested last, yet still honored an unspoken alliance. Would he turn his back in the name of justice? Without knowing the truth behind the heists, the shooter after his life?

A single deck of cards that once empowered him now robbed him of his freedom.

His chest ached. Those cards were coated in his fingerprints. The police would immediately make a connection. His lies would be futile. Nakamori – how would he feel, knowing that the thief he despised was his daughter’s childhood friend, the boy without a father, whose mother left him? Aoko – he could not fathom the conflict this would create, the betrayal she would feel. What about Jii? There was no way they could connect him with Kid, could they? And his mother – what would happen to her? How–

“-kun. Kuroba-kun. Look at me.” A hand clamped on his shoulder. Kaito jolted, barely registering the pain. Hakuba’s face was a blur in front of him. “Kuroba-kun, breathe. Take in a deep breath.”

He sucked in a thin stretch of air.

“Good. Keep breathing. Follow my count.” Inhale. Exhale. Hakuba’s voice was a steady calm against Kaito’s raging heart. He eventually felt his chest loosen, regained control. The hand pulled away from his shoulder, and the loss of warmth caused him to shiver.

“I apologize,” Hakuba said softly. “I did not mean to make you panic. I thought you would appreciate the truth.”

Kaito had no energy left to hide behind his denial. “I do.” His reply was a hoarse whisper. “Thank you.”

Silence blanketed them. Kaito faced the opposite direction to hide the tears that trailed down his cheeks. He didn’t know how long Hakuba stayed, wasn’t aware of the fact that he drifted off. When he woke again, the detective was gone, and evening had fallen over the town.

The deck blended in with his phone, wallet, and keys on the table. Kaito held it loosely in his hand, tears threatening to fall again. He lifted his head to stare at the ceiling, counting down the minutes until the police would arrive in his hospital room.

* * *

He had lived through the first night when he thought he would not, nor was he not arrested during the second night when he thought he would be.

Jii arrived minutes after the doctor had examined his patient and allowed him to be discharged. Kaito changed into the loose outfit that Jii brought him, tossed his wallet inside his bag, and pocketed his phone and keys. His fingers brushed the deck, immediately aware of its newness. Alarm flashed through him before realization sank in, and he threw it in the side pocket. He limped out of the room with his bag over his shoulder.

Traffic threatened to lull him back to sleep, seated beside Jii, who was focused on the road. Kaito went through the missed calls, messages, and notifications on his phone, deleting the majority and answering a handful. He checked the news on his tablet, mildly curious to read the articles about the heist. Now that the initial shock had worn off, most headlines announced conspiracy theories, analyses by international criminal investigators, and fans who showed their support on social media with fanart, heartfelt messages, and cosplays. He smiled to himself when he noticed that the main contributor was Suzuki Sonoko.

The fans also circulated a video with the hope that it would reach the phantom thief. Kaito tapped his way to the source, which brought him to a woman’s personal account. The video was of her son, whom he had taken the bullet for, thanking him for his bravery and promising he would not recklessly endanger others, especially those that he admired. Kaito hoped the child admired his magician tactics rather than thief persona.

Finally, he read an article that summarized a police press conference yesterday. Superintendent Chaki spoke on behalf of Division Two, outlining their collaborative efforts with Division One to track down and arrest the shooter. Though his declaration was bold, the intention was flimsy. The trail would eventually grow cold and neither division would worry. So long they captured the thief alive, they would find the culprit at some point.

Jii dropped him off in front of his home before circling around to park the car in the garage. Kaito unlocked the door and crossed the desolate threshold, shrouded in darkness, frigid after a day’s absence. “I’m home.” His voice echoed throughout the hallway, stoic walls absorbing the greeting. He pulled his shoes off and headed slowly to his bedroom.

He switched the lights on. Everything remained the same as the night of the heist – curtains drawn, desk cleared, laptop closed and fully charged. He lowered himself onto the bed to stare at his father’s portrait, bone-deep resignation weighing him down. _I could’ve joined you, wherever you are, but it looks like you’ll have to wait a while longer._

“Young Master.” Jii was at the doorway. “I’ll prepare some breakfast for you. Please join me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

“I’ll just check the amethyst first. Thanks.” Kaito dumped his bag’s contents onto the bed. Hakuba’s deck rebounded against his wallet and landed a short distance away from the mess. He reached for it instinctively, and although it brought no comfort, he slipped it in his pocket.

The jukebox did not activate upon his entry into his workroom, as if his father hadn’t taken into account how injuries played a role in their careers. Kaito spotted his card gun on the table, dismantled and freshly cleaned. His top hat and monocle rested on a nearby shelf above his box of playing cards, leftover from his father’s time. His hang glider cape was most likely under maintenance to eliminate the blood, or perhaps disposed of, like his suit. The smoke bombs and flash grenades that he had brought with him were also wiped down, stacked neatly on the table’s corner. He tossed them into their respective boxes.

Kaito picked up the jewel to examine, unable to help but wonder if his blood had stained it. He’d tucked it in his pants’ inner pocket, so it should’ve been safe. The number of jewels that he’d bled for remained low, and as much as he wanted to keep it like that, he had a feeling that the number would increase from here.

He returned to the ground floor and sat at the table while Jii cooked. Kaito let the news play in the background while he absently scrolled through his social media. He opened one of his news apps to skim through, uninterested in the majority of the articles. He was about to exit it when he reached the classified ads at the end, but an image caught his attention.

_Seeking owner of lost item at last Kaitou Kid heist,_ the caption read. _If this belongs to you, come to the specified location._ Beneath was a set of playing cards, the first being the king of hearts. Despite the lack of contact information, Kaito knew that this was a message for him from a particular child.

“What is that?” Jii asked, peering over his shoulder as he placed a bowl of miso soup down.

“A message.” Kaito was unaccustomed to mental acrobatics in the aftermath of hospitalization. The cards were ordered from three, five, ace, three, and nine. It obviously denoted _something_ , yet all he could do was scratch his head. “Jii-chan, can you pass me a pen and some paper? And coffee, too, please.”

He received the memo pad and pen but no caffeine due to doctor’s orders – Kaito wasn’t aware that caffeine and bullet wounds didn’t mix – and began to run through several possibilities that included combinations from card games, references to alphabets, and mathematical equations. By the time breakfast was spread across the table, he came to a conclusion. “I know what it means.”

“Would you please enlighten me?” Jii asked, sitting across from him.

“The numbers are coordinates to Beika Park – the advertisement said to come to the specified location, so that’s how I knew what they referred to. The king is to indicate that they’re mine.” It was the closest to identification that the detective could use, undoubtedly deducing a connection between the autograph and its owner. Kaito hoped he’d simply interpret the deck as a keepsake from an ardent fan.

“There doesn’t seem to be a time.”

“If you add all the numbers up, you’ll get twenty-one. I assume it’s tonight since the ad is from today’s paper. He knew I’d be bedridden, which is why he waited to submit the ad.” A small smile tugged at his lips. Yesterday’s panic was unfounded. He _could_ trust the detective, after all.

“Who are you referring to?”

“The detective.” Kaito had missed his chance to inform him since he had to tend to the bar and Kaito was asleep during his brief return. “Hakuba told me that the kid picked them up, and now, it looks like he wants to return them.”

Jii spoke hesitantly, unable to meet his eyes. “Young Master, this might be a trap. You must remember that he has the cooperation of the police. He could have submitted this to lure you out-“

“I don’t think so.” It wouldn’t make sense, otherwise. Why would the detective go through the trouble to put up an advertisement? All he had to do was submit the deck to the police for a fingerprint check, and Kaito would’ve been arrested yesterday. Instead, he waited until Kaito would definitely be discharged, or at least lucid enough to check the news. It must’ve been a deliberate submission because this newspaper was the most popular in the country. “Those cards are covered in my fingerprints. If he wanted me trapped, yesterday would’ve been the perfect opportunity.”

“You must also consider your enemies. What if they saw and interpreted the message? This is seen by everyone in the country,” Jii pointed out. “Your life will be in danger.”

His heart pounded at the possibility. Beika Park was protected by trees, but the darkness would disguise a sniper easily. The same could be said with any police officers, if this were truly a trap. However, if the detective came alone, he would get in the line of fire–

_The detective can take care of himself._ His injury throbbed in agreement, reminding him of who the vulnerable one truly was. “I still have to get those cards back, no matter what.” This went beyond preserving his own identity, but his father’s, as well as recovering a source of comfort.

“ _Listen, Kaito. Listen well._ ” Toichi’s voice echoed in his mind. He could imagine his six-year-old self seated on his father’s lap, watching the cards fly from one hand to the other. “ _A magician must always be ready to entertain his guests, no matter what condition or situation he may be in. You must be resourceful and use the tools around you to be able to perform miracles._ ”

“ _I don’t know how to do that_ ,” Kaito had protested.

“ _You first begin with cards. You will learn the rest as you grow older._ ” Toichi had squared the cards and slipped them back into their tuck box. He pressed them in his son’s small hands. _“Always keep these with you, so you would never falter in front of an audience._ ”

Jii sighed. “I suppose further persuasion is futile. You must allow me to come. If anything happens, I-“

“No. I’ll meet the detective alone, and whoever else. You can help me with surveillance, along with the doves, but that’s all. If…anything happens, you can’t get involved. Please.” Kaito released a long breath. Even at the cost of his identity, he had to retrieve them. Not just for his sake, but for his father’s, to protect both Kuroba Toichi and Kaitou Kid’s legacies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (3/11) - the second half was rewritten to include elements that did not make it to the third chapter.


	3. The Moonlight

Beika Park occupied half a city block, hugged by trees, and enclosed by a painted fence. A brick walkway, lined with lamps and benches, connected the southern entrance to northern exit. An expansive playground and swing set faced an open sky and the public washroom was within reach. The area was popular with young children and mothers, students who played in the fields, elders that wanted a breath of fresh air, and businesspeople in need of a shortcut. Beneath the moonlight, however, pockets of light kept the darkness at bay, the playground was reticent, and trees swayed in the breeze. A perturbed lull blanketed the unoccupied space.

Conan stood beneath one of the lamps in front of the playground. His hands were in his pockets, right palm pressed against the thief’s deck wrapped in a clean handkerchief. The city’s soundtrack drifted over him – cars in the distance, trains arriving and departing platforms at the station, pedestrians chatting with their company, bikes zooming along the sidewalks. He kept his head down whenever someone walked passed him, careful to observe them when their back had turned. It was normal to express concern when an elementary school child was alone, but perhaps the tension that surrounded him suggested that there was more than what met the eye.

He was simply anxious.

In hindsight, a newspaper advertisement did not seem like the best method to contact an elusive phantom thief. The majority of the companies rejected their submission because of the cryptic nature, and a few could not print it in time for the next day. They had lucked out when one of the major newspapers accepted and placed it at the top of the section. Conan could only hope that the thief had seen it and understood his message.

“ _Why not just give it to him at the next heist?_ ” Haibara had questioned.

“ _I think Kid wants these back as soon as possible._ ” Conan fished them out to examine. The wrinkled tuck box bore faint bloodstains, as it was impossible to remove dried blood completely. The cards were easier to clean since they were plastic and the stains were smaller. He had no obligation to clean them, as Haibara had pointed out, but it proved to be a fulfilling afternoon activity.

Agasa hadn’t wanted him to come alone, in case the thief’s enemies deciphered the message instead. Conan had taken precautions – his phone’s location tracker was on, and all his gadgets were functional. The professor also watched for unusual activity via the park’s security cameras, safely parked at a distance. It was safe to assume that the thief would do the same, combing the shadows for lurkers, checking the perimeter for suspicious vehicles, or plotting his escape routes. The reason that Conan chose this park was because of the multiple avenues of entry and exit. This was not a cage, just a simple exchange.

A fluttering of wings startled him. He raised his head in time to watch a dove fly south. A second dove followed, swift across the cloud-streaked sky. Conan glanced at the time – three minutes remained. Doubt began to infiltrate his mind. The possibilities that the thief would come were slim. He could still be bedridden. He may not have seen the advertisement. Covering for his civilian identity could have taken precedence. His condition may have taken a turn for the worse and the world would be none the wiser.

However, the slim chance remained, and that was why he was here in the first place. “ _I wonder what kind of partnership the two of you would’ve had if it weren’t for your opposing identities._ ” He recalled Haibara’s amused comment. “ _Either you two would be the best of friends or the fiercest rivals._ ”

Trees swayed. The wind carried laughter from the northern entrance. A car’s engine switched on and promptly drove off. A momentary lull. Footsteps, an uneven pause in between each step. The air shifted. Conan sensed a presence approach and stop just outside the lamp’s perimeter. A deep tone carried hints of caution, clear across the distance between them. “Detective.”

“Kid.”

They looked up. The thief was a denizen of the darkness, dressed in black, face hidden behind his cap, which contrasted the detective, dressed in his usual blue blazer and shorts, red bowtie around the collar, glasses perched on his nose. Conan reached into his pocket to offer the deck. “Here.”

Kid did not move. “You aren’t going to tranquilize me once I take them, are you?”

“No.”

“Nor will the police surround me?”

“We’re the only ones here.” The trees shuddered in protest. Conan moved his left arm behind his back so his watch pressed into his shirt. “I was genuine when I said I sought these cards’ owner.”

His hesitation lasted for a moment longer. Kid limped forward to enter the light’s perimeter. He carefully lowered himself to be eye level with Conan. Their eyes met, though bangs obscured the thief’s gaze. He pressed Conan’s hand in between his gloved ones. When he pulled back, the deck had been swapped with the amethyst. Its gleam blinded him.

Conan fumbled to cradle it with both hands as Kid straightened up to step back. The gentle riffle of cards eased the tense atmosphere, and he stopped halfway, sharp breath caught in his throat. “Thank you.” Quiet gratitude lightened his formal lilt to reveal a relieved ache. It felt like a reunion with a nostalgic past.

“That deck’s value must be priceless if you swapped it with the amethyst.”

“It only has value to me.” Kid paused. “That amethyst is to also thank you for not passing the deck to the police. You could live lavishly for the rest of your life if you sold it.” Conan rolled his eyes. They both knew that he would simply return it to Jirokichi.

“Who is Kuroba Toichi to you?” Aside from the autograph, there had been no other mark on the card. It was in better condition than the others, with stronger colors and relatively scratch-free. The thief must’ve taken extra precautions to preserve it.

The silence conveyed his hesitation. “Kuroba Toichi is the magician that I respect the most.” Conan had never heard such a tender reply before, one filled with admiration and grief. It was a combination that few could conjure, born out of familiarity. “He is the ghost that I chase.”

“Do you keep his autograph as a phantom thief, or as a magician?”

“I am under no obligation to answer that.”

Conan narrowed his eyes. “I deserve that much, since I kept your identity hidden.”

“You didn’t have to.” Fire returned to his words, which melted his vulnerability. “I fully expected to be arrested last night when I was at the hospital. We may have a mutual trust, detective, but you’re still on the side of justice. I thought that would outweigh all the favors we’ve racked up in the past.”

He could not deny that. However… “You saved someone’s life. Would it be fair if I got you arrested in exchange?”

Kid flinched. The shadows shifted as he pressed a hand against his side. “That was because no one was supposed to get hurt. I’d throw myself in front of civilians any day if they were caught in something they weren’t supposed to.”

A quiet weariness weighed his words. Conan lowered his eyes toward his small hand. The same applied to him and his personal fight. Wasn’t that the reason for his web of lies and daily façade? The only difference was that Kid’s audience was vaster. Any stranger caught in the crossfire was considered a defeat.

The amethyst was no longer a prize but a burden, heavy in his palm. “Who is after you so feverishly?”

“Enemies that seek to eliminate me, one way or another.”

“Is it because they’re looking for the same jewel as you are?”

Silence. Conan released a low breath. “Your silence violates your policy. Now that the police knows someone is after you, they’ll also try to arrest them. Those people are the ones who threaten the lives of others, while you’re just a nuisance.”

“I can’t believe you think of me as a nuisance,” Kid deadpanned.

“You…” There were plenty of other colorful words that Conan could conjure, yet none seemed appropriate. “The threat is real, to you and the public. If you tell me who they are, I can help you protect the audience. Any loss of life, whether it is yours or someone innocent, is a defeat to a detective.”

“Did you just admit that you’d miss me if I was killed?”

A slight twitch at the corner of his mouth wrestled between a frown and amused smirk. The phantom thief’s wary guard had lowered to a familiar companionship that followed their interactions, protected by the darkness, illuminated by the moon. Kid shook his head. “Unfortunately, detective, this does not concern you nor the police. They are my enemies, so it’s my responsibility to take care of them.”

“Even at the cost of your life?”

“Indeed. I swore on these cards that I would avenge my predecessor and fulfill the objective that they failed to do. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, and I will return the favor, if the need ever arises, but this is not your fight. Don’t get involved.”

Conan lowered his eyes. He would never be able to admit how the thief’s situation mirrored his own, how they were the sole fighters on their own quests. “You should know that I won’t make your job easier for you. The reason I didn’t pass them off is because I knew the deck wasn’t meant to be used against you. Who am I to expose your identity outside the confines of a heist?”

A faint chuckle answered him. “I will hold you to that, detective. Until next time.”

Clouds roamed across the moon. “Don’t get yourself killed before I could catch you.”

“I’ll say the same thing back to you.” As the clouds slid away, the phantom thief had vanished.

Conan glanced upwards. He held the amethyst to the moon, unable to discern anything within its confines. With one hand, he picked up his skateboard and walked toward the northern entrance. As to how he would return home without anyone noticing the amethyst…

He stopped to take his phone out. “Professor? Sorry, can you come pick me up? Kid gave me the amethyst back and I’d rather not lose it.” That was the least he could do, after all. Next time, he did not plan to be so generous.

* * *

Kaito forgot to check the amethyst that night.

“Is something the matter?” Jii inquired, with a glance in the rearview mirror at the young magician slumped in the backseat.

“Just lamenting my return to school.” His weeklong absence barely felt like one, due to continuous visits from his classmates, and Aoko’s efforts to keep him updated by offering notes and helping him complete assignments. His mother had also returned briefly, as well, and departed just as quickly that Kaito was unsure if it would’ve been better if she hadn’t visited at all. Jii was more than enough of a concerned guardian who called to ensure he took his medication on time or live through his pain vicariously.

He dropped him off at the front entrance. A lone student waited by the gate, eyes focused on his phone than his surroundings. Kaito dug around his backpack before he limped forward. “Catch.”

Hakuba caught the incoming projectile, fingers curled around the deck of cards. Kaito watched him examine them, recognition lighting up his expression a moment later. He straightened up from his position against the wall, slight nod in greeting. “I assume you recovered your own deck?”

“Yeah.” Kaito shifted his weight to his uninjured side and slung his backpack over his shoulder. His _gakuran_ remained unbuttoned to reveal a light blue shirt underneath. The exhaustion that haunted him had faded, thanks to his extended rest. “I was discharged the day after, so I didn’t bother breaking yours in.”

“Perhaps you would derive more pleasure from it than me. I am not a card aficionado.” Hakuba held them back out, but Kaito shook his head and limped by.

“I still have a lifetime supply in my basement.”

Various clubs occupied the outdoor fields and courts, huddled in their own corners. A few students walked through the hallways when the duo entered, though none paid them any attention. Kaito climbed each step one at a time and Hakuba walked behind him, as if to catch him if he fell. He scowled and threw a glare over his shoulder. “I have to talk to the teachers before school. You don’t have to come with me.”

“I do,” Hakuba replied. “I wish to talk to you, as well.”

“Didn’t you talk enough when you came to visit?”

“There has been a new development in the investigation that you may find of interest.”

Kaito didn’t respond. Nakamori would’ve indulged him if asked, but he hadn’t seen the inspector due to a case of serial robberies taking priority. His overtime work made Aoko choose to cook at Kaito’s home instead, and she often stayed late to keep each other company. The only mention of it was when Aoko said the last witness was questioned three days ago, and no new information had been gleaned since.

Hakuba waited in the hallway while Kaito entered the teachers’ office to receive their sympathies and discuss arrangements for missed deadlines. He exited with a stuffed folder of papers that he clamped shut with both hands, ready to leave before the day began. They dropped their belongings in the classroom and headed out for the ground floor courtyard.

It was enclosed by the garden club’s property, although most of the flowerbeds were empty due to the approaching winter season. Stray golden and crimson leaves littered the grass that crunched beneath Hakuba’s pacing, while Kaito sat at the stone picnic table, hands occupied with his cards. “So? What’s this new development?”

“Priority for Kid’s case has been shifted due to a series of robberies. It is also because of a lack of evidence and eyewitnesses. My father concluded that the shooter fled the crowd immediately after the third shot was fired.”

Kaito hummed under his breath. The fact that the shooter had not aimed for his vitals meant they were at a low angle but high enough to be above the crowd. Could it also mean that the shot was not supposed to be fatal because he had the amethyst? His body position played a role, as well. “Did they ever figure out where the shooter was?”

“Inside the building adjacent from where I was positioned. The office that they were in was forcibly broken into due to lax security measures. We failed to spot them because we were concerned with Kid’s appearance, not theirs.” Hakuba sighed. “I suppose we’ll need to be alert of a potential third party now.”

“I don’t think so.” Cards flew from one hand to another. “Inspector Nakamori told me that the first time shots were fired was during Jody Hopper’s show – they were after Red Tear. What did that have in common with Bouquet of Lavender?”

There was a slight pause. “The size. Kid never targets jewels less than five centimeters long. They’re always larger.”

“Exactly. So long the jewels are smaller, there should be no harm to the public.” Kaito shrugged. “I suppose telling the crowd what to do is just as futile as trying to tell Kid what not to steal.”

“Kid mentioned multiple times how he is searching for a specific jewel,” Hakuba said. “Now that we have specific criteria on his primary targets, we should take this opportunity to inform owners who may be affected to take precautions…”

_Not that any of those would work against me._ Kaito hid a quarter of the deck in his palm to casually snap into existence. “Is that all? I still don’t know why you’re telling me all of this. I’m not part of the police.”

“I simply wanted to gain your perspective on the matter. You’ve attended just as many heists as I had, so I thought you might have some wisdom to share.”

“None. You should take this time to relax. He’s injured, so he shouldn’t have any heists any time soon.” The king of hearts flashed in front of him. “I’m injured too, so you should give me a break.”

Hakuba stared it. Kaito could tell since his eyes were slightly angled away from him. “It pains me to admit this but Kid is quite tenacious. Despite the bloodshed and hardships, he would continue to steal, but to what end? Will he continue to steal until he’s exhausted all of Japan’s jewels? The world’s? His goal seems rather impossible.”

“All things come to an end.” The ace of clubs appeared next. A bloodstain darkened the white background and blended into the corner of the ace. “One way or another, no matter how long it takes.”

The bell rang. Kaito slipped the rest of his cards into the tuck box and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll go first. The last thing I want to be is late on my first day back.”

“Kuroba-kun.” He stopped at the address. “I will give you a break if you give yourself one. Don’t do anything reckless.” Kaito simply waved as he walked away.

His classmates greeted him inside the classroom – the boys were careful not to jostle his injured side, and the girls kept their distance. He sat down, thoroughly exhausted, glancing upward when someone came up to him. “Kaito.” Aoko’s smile was wide, fingers laced behind her back. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.” He mirrored her grin. “How about a welcome-back magic trick?” He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the flare at his side. With deft movements, he palmed his deck out and shuffled the cards, fanning them out for Aoko. “Pick any card. You can look at it, but don’t show me.”

Aoko gave him a look but obliged. The entire class peered over her shoulder when she selected one and promptly slipped back into the deck when Kaito held it out for her. He shuffled them again, noticing Hakuba enter out of the corner of his eye. “Hakuba! Catch!”

He fired a card in his direction, which Hakuba caught between his fingers and flipped to reveal – it was the king of hearts. “Is that your card, miss?” Kaito asked.

There was no answer. He blinked, realized that Aoko was no longer beside him but by Hakuba, who retrieved the card. She avoided his eyes as she took his hand and pressed it against his palm. “You shouldn’t play around with something so important.” Her scold was soft. “What’d happen if you lost it?”

Kaito snapped his fingers and gently removed her hand. The card was back at the top of the deck. “I’ll never lose them.” He placed them back inside the tuck box and motioned Aoko to hold her hands out to place on top. With slow, careful gestures, he curled his fingers so the deck flew through the air and back into his hand. The class applauded. “Even if I do, they’ll find a way to come back to me.”

The teacher called for everyone’s attention, and the students returned to their desks. Kaito stole a glance at the sun, defiant against the clouds. He held his deck toward it, imagined it was the amethyst in the moonlight. Whether it held his prize or not, he wouldn’t know, just like how he wouldn’t know if his next target would be his last. All he had to do was continue and trust that each jewel would bring him one step closer to his goal.

Just as he placed his trust in the cards to guide him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is based off a personal headcanon that Kaito keeps the first deck that his father gave to him as an omamori. future fics will also allude to this hc in subtle ways. I did not mean for this to be so long haha
> 
> thank you to everyone who left kudos, subscribed, or took the time to give this a read! <3 I will now go back to the world of fluffy one-shots~~
> 
> thank you for reading!


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